


Silver Locket

by Jld71, ShadyB



Category: Looper (2012)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 08:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13736625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jld71/pseuds/Jld71, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadyB/pseuds/ShadyB
Summary: Debilitated by a particularly strong batch of drops, Joe runs up against his worst memories.  And Kid Blue.  Takes place a year or so before the movie.





	Silver Locket

**Silver Locket**

The locket turned up in the flea bitten antique store where Joe bought his 45’s.  Under the smudged glass of the counter it seemed to shine brightly amidst all the junk.  A child’s locket, no bigger than your thumbnail, intricately engraved with whorls and swirls, clinging by a teardrop to a whisper of a chain where each link was no wider then a pins’ opening.  Beautiful, the way only old and well-loved things could be beautiful. 

                And Silver. 

                He knew the second he touched it.  Pure.  He loved silver the way stories said that vampires and werewolves and fairies all hated it.  He wanted it against his body all the time.  Wanted to put it in his mouth, absorb it into his pores.  Silver made him strong, made him feel alive. 

                He bought the locket.  Of course he did.  It was a perfect object.  A thing that seemed like it was a part of him.  He bought it to give it away, give it to Suzie.  Not for her, she wouldn’t take gifts from him, they’d had that talk.  It made her nervous, how attached he was, how he seemed to think she belonged to him.  She’d belonged to a man once, she said.  Never again.    So not for her.  For her child.  For her daughter.  She wouldn’t say no for her daughter. 

                He planned to give it to her that night but things didn’t work out quite like he’d planned.

                It was the drops.

                “Prime East Coast,” the dealer kept saying.  Dealers always said bullshit like that.  This time though, it was true.  The drops were _strong_.  Strong as liquor compared to beer.  They blew the watered down Kansas City stuff Joe was used to out of the water.  They also blew Joe out of the water.  He was a weekend user, his tolerance wasn’t great.  He’d taken his usual dose but these were ten times stronger than the usual drops.  He ended up stoned out of his mind, practically catatonic.  

                He spent an hour just looking at Suzie, the chain of the locket wrapped around his hand, too awed by her glow to actually form words. Then she left with Seth, giving him a look of mingled pity and disgust as she went out the door. 

                Seth knew Joe had a thing for Suzie.  He didn’t approve.  He probably thought he was doing Joe a favor, showing him she was just a whore, that she’d go with any guy who flashed cash in her direction. Point taken.

                And so he was left alone in a particularly melancholy mood, his fingers still wrapped around the necklace and his head spinning clouds.  The noise and crowd of the nightclub just made him lonely and although movement had become extremely difficult he managed to get unsteadily to his feet and wander into the back rooms Abe ran his operation out of. 

                The hallways were quiet and dark this time of night, the day’s business done.  Deep in the bowels of the building, Joe slumped against the wall letting everything blur except the silver heart he clutched to his own heart.  How much time had passed he had no idea. Minutes?  Hours?  He felt no less high, no less foggy and dazed when a sharp pain called him back to a semblance of awareness.  A smell of smoke, eyes upon him.  Eyes that glowed in the dark like a cat’s but not green or yellow.  The blue of a frozen pond swept clear of snow reflecting a cloudless sky.

                “Kid,” he said.  “Stop looking at me.  Your eyes are burning me.”

                “That’s my cigarette you dumb fuck,” Kid Blue said, laughing malevolently.  He lifted Joe’s hand so he could see there was a cigarette, extinguished it on his upturned palm. The locket at least was safe, still wrapped around his other hand, cupped close to his chest.  “Looks like you’re pretty high tonight, Joe.  It’s not a good idea, getting so messed up.  Something bad could happen to you.  Somebody might come along who wanted to hurt you and you couldn’t do a thing about it, could you?”

                His voice lulled Joe back into his fog but he was pulled out again when Kid Blue slapped him on the cheek, first one, then the other, lightly at first then with increasing force until his head was snapping back and forth. 

                “Stop me, Joe.  Stop me.  Put up your hand, stop me.  Say stop, I’ll stop.”  Kid Blue laughed again.  Joe thought of a child tearing the wings off flies.  And he was the fly.  “You think you’re so smart, so slick.  You don’t look slick now, Joe.  You’re a pathetic fucking junkie drooling on yourself.  You can’t even sit up straight.   You’re a piece of trash.  Maybe I ought to take the trash out.”

                He drew his gun, cocked it and pressed it to Joe’s forehead. 

                “Bang, bang, Joe.  You’re dead.”

                “And yet… I’m still alive,” fighting the haze he forced himself to speak, to look at Kid Blue with utter contempt, to sneer at him.  “Put that thing away before you hurt yourself.”

                Kid Blue scowled.

                “You never shut up, do you?”  He yelled.  “Even when you’re smashed out of your mind you can’t shut your fucking mouth.”

                He lowered the gun, pushing the barrel between Joe’s lips, forcing them apart, forcing the gun barrel into his mouth.  Joe managed to roll his eyes and was pleased to see Kid clench his teeth in frustration and rage.  It probably wasn’t a good idea to antagonize a man who was holding a gun to your head but he knew there was no way Kid Blue would shoot him.  Abe would have his balls gilded and hung on a Christmas tree.  As long as Joe had Abe’s favor, as long as Kid wanted it more than anything in the world, he wasn’t getting his head blown off.   He was untouchable.

                Or maybe not.  Kid’s eyes lit on the silver chain wrapped around Joe’s fingers.  By some instinct, he seemed to know that it was special, that it wasn’t for him and therefore moved to it.

                “What’s that?”  He demanded.  The gun went back in his holster.  He had something new and better to torment Joe with.

                “Leave it alone.”  Joe tried to protect the locket but Kid easily pried his fingers open, untangled the chain.  He dangled the locket in front of Joe’s face.

                “Did you get a present for your best whore?”  Kid taunted him.  “That’s so sweet.  I’ll bet she’ll be touched.  Too bad she’s getting touched by some other guy right now.”

                “Give me.”  He grabbed at it ineffectually.  He was a complete wreck. 

                “Can’t fault your taste, Suzie’s fine piece of ass but you’ll get nowhere treating her like a lady.  She likes it rough.  Slap her around a little and she’ll come panting after you like a bitch in heat.  She’s let me have it for free a couple of times.”                 “Bullshit.”

                “She has.  Lots of times.”  Kid.  He was a kid.  A vicious little kid, playground taunts.  Joe was sick of it.  He wanted to pass out and wake up not high.  He’d had enough.

                “Give me the fucking necklace.”

                “Come get it.”

                Mustering all his strength and coordination, Joe flung himself at Kid Blue.  For a moment they wrestled, thrashing and twisting on the floor but they were hardly equally matched.  Every move Joe made was like swimming in a dream.  Kid Blue quickly was on top of him, pinning his wrist to the floor.

                In Joe’s drug addled mind, the weight of another man’s body on his-- so close, holding him down—called up a memory he kept away from. He’d been real young, on his own, before he meant Abe.  Maybe 9 or 10, hiding in a boxcar.  He’d thought it was empty but there was another boy there, an older boy.  He’d seemed friendly until the train started and there was nowhere to run.  He’d pinned Joe down, snarling threats; hurt him enough so that he knew the treats in earnest.  Knew that if he tried to fight or get away he’d be dead.  The boy had spent the rest of that night (that long, awful night) using him in ways he could barely comprehend.  Using his body as a thing to be fucked.  He was not a person but a place for this bigger boy to shove his dick into.

                Pinned under Kid Blue he was there again, knowing what was to come and fear consumed him.

                “Don’t,” he cried out, terror palpable in his voice, on his face.  “Don’t.  Get off me …”

                Ever contrary, Kid Blue didn’t move an inch.  Joe lay under him panting, trying to pull himself together. 

                “What’s going on?  What happened?”  Kid Blue demanded.  He was worrying it over the way he did, trying to find an angle.  “You were afraid,” he said.  “You were _scared_.  Where’d you go, Joe?  What got you afraid?”  How can I use it against you?  How can I fuck with you?  Wicked curiosity was written across his face.  He came closer, hovering above Joe.  Then a flicker of horrible understanding in his eyes.  Then a devil’s smile curled his lips.  “I know,” he whispered.  “I get it, Joe.  I get you.”

                He dipped down, pressing his lips against Joe’s like they were the barrel of his gun, forcing them apart, forcing his tongue into Joe’s mouth, down his throat.  His pelvis rubbing and grinding against Joe’s, his dick getting hard against him. 

                Joe broke free from the poisonous kiss, turned his head to the side.

                “No.”  He wanted to say don’t do this, this isn’t who you are, you’re not evil you just take things too far but it’s not too late to stop.  Stop.  “Stop …”

                A look had come over Kid’s face, a look of almost Zen focus, absolute determination that scared Joe as much as his memories.  Kid grabbed the heavy black satin of Joe’s shirt in his fists, tore it open to the waist, the buttons popping.  He pushed Joe’s undershirt up and out of the way, hands clawing over his bare chest and stomach, twisting and pinching his nipples till he cried out in pain.

                “Stop … Stop it. “

                Kid Blue fumbled with Joe’s belt; finally unbuckling it then moved onto the buttons of his fly.  When he had them open he rolled Joe over onto his stomach.  Joe felt the filthy carpet against his face, his exposed stomach.  Kid’s weight on his back, fingers grasping for his waistband, pulling his pants down over his ass.

                “What the fuck is going on here?”  Abe.

                “Shit.  Abe,” Kid exclaimed, whatever trance he’d been in mercifully shot to hell.

                “What do you think you’re doing?  Got off my Looper.” 

                “I didn’t mean too … wasn’t going to do it, not really.  I was just trying to scare him.”  Kid was falling all over himself to explain.  Abe smacked him on the back of the head. 

                “Get off him.”

                Kid scrambled to his feet, rubbing the spot where Abe’s blow had landed. 

                “I wouldn’t have done it,” he whined. 

                “Don’t give me your bullshit excuses.  When a guy with his pants around his knees is being held down by a guy with hard-on I know what’s about to happen. Just get out of my sight and stay out of my sight till I tell you you can come back.  If I tell you you can come back.  And don’t be surprised if I send somebody to beat the shit out of you in the morning.  Jesus Christ.”

                Joe heard Kid’s footsteps beating retreat. 

                “You,” Abe sighed.  “What the fuck am I going to do with you?” 

                He dragged Joe to his feet.  Joe somehow managing to pull his pants back up then Abe guided him the few steps down the hallway to his office.  Inside, he bolted the door, sunk into the chair at his desk, pulling Joe onto his lap.

                “I’m disappointed in you, Joe.”  Abe said as he stroked Joe’s hair, smoothing it back into place.  “You put yourself into this situation.  If I ever see you this wasted again, I’ll let every man in this city and their brother bang your ass.  Understand?  And don’t goad Kid Blue.  He wouldn’t do shit like this if you didn’t push him to it.  You’re smarter than him; you don’t need to have the last word.  Just let him wave his gun around until he gets bored and goes away.  I don’t need you two at each other’s throats all the time.”

                Joe nodded weakly.  Abe kissed his cheek.  One of his hands rested on Joe’s thigh, the other under his undershirt on his bare stomach, eventually sliding down the front of his still open pants.  Abe used to hold him, touch him like this a lot when he was younger.  When Joe got to be about 17, he’d mostly stopped.  It had happened a couple times in the ten years since.  Joe had always allowed it, refusing was never really an option. He owed Abe everything he had. 

                It was like the night in the railroad car.  He was being used.  His self reduced to a body, an object for someone else’s gratification.  It was the same but it was different too.  Abe never hurt him, never made him feel less than human like the boy in the railcar had.  Abe took what wanted then life went on.  The life he’d given Joe, a life that could carry him away from his worst memories.

                “You’re a good boy, Joe,” Abe said.  “You always have been.  There’s more to you than most.  I’ve always believed that.  Don’t disappoint me.” 

                In the morning, Joe would tell himself the night before was all a blur, that he couldn’t remember very much.  That he’d dropped the locket on the street but it didn’t matter, because Suzie didn’t mean that much to him.  That the burn on his hand was an accident, his own cigarette.  That his shirt had been torn in a fight or by a woman who couldn’t wait.  That no one used him or scared him and that drops were something he could give or take.  That the hatred in Kid Blue’s eyes was harmless rivalry.

                What he would remember was Abe telling him, “Don’t disappoint me.”

 


End file.
